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232. Song—The Day Returns

by
 THE DAY returns, my bosom burns,
 The blissful day we twa did meet:
Tho’ winter wild in tempest toil’d,
 Ne’er summer-sun was half sae sweet.
Than a’ the pride that loads the tide, And crosses o’er the sultry line; Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes, Heav’n gave me more—it made thee mine! While day and night can bring delight, Or Nature aught of pleasure give; While joys above my mind can move, For thee, and thee alone, I live.
When that grim foe of life below Comes in between to make us part, The iron hand that breaks our band, It breaks my bliss—it breaks my heart!

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